Hearing this, Mu Anxiao shot Feng Qishi a glare. "You abandoned it. I took it in. Naturally, it's mine now. Stop being so full of yourself."
"Fine. Then let’s see whether it listens to you or me now." Feng Qishi walked toward her.
The old man stepped aside to make way.
Feng Qishi glanced at him, then stopped by the bed. He bent down and gently stroked the Soul Sword. "Be good."
"......" The sword fell silent.
Mu Anxiao wasn’t angered by this. Instead, she smiled. "In that case, I’ll leave it to you."
"What do you mean?" Feng Qishi was baffled.
Mu Anxiao smirked. "Since that’s how it is, you stay here and keep them company. I’m going to eat." With that, she released her grip on the sword.
A few minutes later...
Mu Anxiao, barefoot, walked to the table and eyed the lavish spread of food. "Feng Crazy, you’re not eating, right?" She glanced at Feng Qishi, who stood between the old man and A’Long.
Feng Qishi, holding the Soul Sword, looked between the hesitant old man and A’Long. "Save some for me."
"You’re already so powerful. Why do you need to eat?" Mu Anxiao sat down at the table.
The dagger glanced at Feng Qishi, then moved to sit beside Mu Anxiao.
"Save some for me," Feng Qishi repeated firmly.
"Yeah, yeah, got it." Mu Anxiao picked up her chopsticks and noticed the dagger staring at the food. "You wanna eat?"
The dagger hesitated. "Not really. It’s just... seeing so much delicious food, I kinda..." She touched her stomach, which had never known hunger. "I kinda want to try."
"You’re a dagger. Getting tempted by human food is pretty weird," Mu Anxiao remarked before picking up a bowl of porridge and digging in.
Having lived as a demon for so long, the dagger had never experienced a proper mortal life. Hearing Mu Anxiao’s words, she suddenly felt a pang of sorrow.
Thinking of the crimes she’d committed under her fake master, her expression darkened. "Do I have to go back to the underworld with you?"
"That’s not up to me. It depends on what happens to your former master."
"......" The dagger sighed.
Mu Anxiao glanced at her, then at the food. "Go on, try some."
"Forget it."
"Why?" Mu Anxiao asked between bites.
The dagger hesitated. "Like you said, I’m just a dagger. If I eat, it’d be..."
Before she could finish, Mu Anxiao pushed the bowl she’d saved for Feng Qishi toward her. "Don’t take my words seriously. Eat."
The dagger froze, staring at the steaming porridge. "It’d be a waste if I ate."
From across the room, Feng Qishi—still dealing with the hesitant old man and A’Long—called out, "Yeah, it’d be wasted. Don’t eat it."
Hearing his tone, the dagger’s eyes narrowed. She snatched the chopsticks and began shoveling food into her mouth aggressively.
Feng Qishi’s eyes widened.
Mu Anxiao chuckled. "Slow down. No one’s fighting you for it."
Between mouthfuls, the dagger shot Feng Qishi a glare. "Even if I can’t taste it, I won’t leave any for you."
Feng Qishi sighed at her ravenous display, then turned to A’Long. "Stop hesitating. It’s already agreed." As he spoke, the Soul Sword pulsed with a soft blue glow.
A’Long swallowed hard. "I’ll go first." Taking a deep breath, she gripped the sword.
Once she complied, Feng Qishi looked at the old man. "Your turn."
The old man hesitated. "She’s holding it?"
Feng Qishi nodded.
With a slow, reluctant motion, the old man reached out and clasped the sword.
In the next instant, blue light enveloped them both. Gradually, their eyes met—each seeing the other clearly for the first time.
A’Long’s lips trembled into a smile. "You Ping... I can see you."
The old man’s eyes glistened. "Yeah. I see you too."
Her smile wavered as tears spilled. "I’m sorry for how I spoke to you earlier."
"As long as you’re not angry anymore, I’m at peace."
"This time... we really have to part." Her voice cracked. "Take care of yourself. And... be good to your wife. She... she’s had it hard."
"I will. You..." His throat tightened. He didn’t want to let go, but reality left no choice. "I’ll burn paper offerings for you."
"There’s no need."
"But I—"
"I was a demon. I don’t deserve a grave, and I shouldn’t follow mortal customs." She shook her head. "Just... remember me. That’s enough to make me happy."
"I’ll never forget you." He pressed a hand to his chest. "You’ll always be right here."
"......" A’Long’s laughter mingled with tears. "Thank you."
"A’Long, you... take care."
"Yeah. This time, it’s really goodbye." She bit her lip, voice breaking. "Live a long life. Live... live well."
There was so much more she wanted to say, but now, face to face, words failed her.
Perhaps these simple words were enough—a quiet summary of a lifetime.
"A’Long, you..."
Before he could finish, her form began to fade. Then, her grip on the sword loosened. As she vanished completely, her final act was to gaze at him, weeping.
Feng Qishi, witnessing this, opened his mouth—but A’Long’s voice whispered through the air one last time:
"Tell him... I’m already gone."
His chest tightened. Turning to the old man, who was about to speak, he said softly, "She’s left."
The old man’s face crumpled. A heartbeat later, he broke down entirely.
Feng Qishi lowered the sword, watching the old man sob for the love he’d lost twice. His own nose stung. Then his gaze drifted to Mu Anxiao, frozen at the table—and his breath caught.
At that moment, the Soul Sword trembled in his hand.
Startled, he looked down.
In a flash, the sword wrenched free and shot toward Mu Anxiao.
She felt its approach. Setting down her bowl, she quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve and tapped the table. "So you still remember who your master is. Land here." Without turning, she addressed the sword hovering behind her.
It bobbed in the air, obediently gliding down to rest on the table.
Mu Anxiao kept her back to Feng Qishi, voice deliberately casual. "What are you staring at?" She rubbed her eyes again, as if irritated.
Feng Qishi didn’t look away. Staring at her stiff shoulders, a single thought echoed in his mind:
*She’s crying.*